


Zip

by Highsmith (quimtessence)



Category: The Old Guard (Movie 2020)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Canon Queer Character of Color, Canon Queer Relationship, Come Swallowing, Domestic, Explicit Sexual Content, Fluff and Smut, Immortal Husbands Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani/Nicky | Nicolò di Genova, M/M, Mid-Century Heat Waves, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Pre-Canon, Slice of Life, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-14
Updated: 2020-09-14
Packaged: 2021-03-06 16:20:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,070
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26451763
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quimtessence/pseuds/Highsmith
Summary: Although from the start Booker is the one with the liveliest protests against the infernal device, Joe has no strong feelings regarding the method by which he laces up his trousers, only that they remain fastened. Or, in this case, zipped up.Half a century or so after the zipper became popular, Joe finally realises the invention's true potential.
Relationships: Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani/Nicky | Nicolò di Genova
Comments: 38
Kudos: 487





	Zip

**Author's Note:**

> Sometimes you're doing research for a completely different project when an idea pops into your head and you have to write it. And then post it to the internet. That's my story and I'm sticking with it.

Although from the start Booker is the one with the liveliest protests against the infernal device, Joe has no strong feelings regarding the method by which he laces up his trousers, only that they remain fastened. Or, in this case, zipped up. This opinion carries forth for decades upon decades going into the century as it turns over.

Honestly, he has little time to worry about such nonsense, nor does it come up until some time in the middle of the twentieth century, by which time they've been occupying the same one-bedroom flat on the West Side for a short while when, in the span of one hot summer afternoon, Joe has a drastic change of heart.

While Nicky is not particularly good at practising patience where the city's August heat is concerned, he makes the most of it by refusing to wear more than a sleeveless linen undershirt thinned out with age and rough washing, as well as a frankly obscenely small pair of underwear for propriety's sake should the people in the building across from theirs chance a glance into their tiny kitchen.

Joe has been favouring suspenders with his work trousers, loose at the thighs and tapered towards the ankle, though he keeps the ends rolled up to about mid-calf, the button above the flies unbuttoned. He hasn't worn a shirt inside since July hit.

They've been fortunate to find ripe tomatoes resistant to the heat. Annoyance at the weather means Nicky falls into comfort patterns of cooking-reading-sex until either a boiling point overwhelms him or the heat finally breaks on its own.

Neither has yet to occur, and Joe is still reaping the benefits, his newest pages littered across Nicky's bedside table with pencilled underlines for his favourite bits, thus he hardly cares that his brain feels as if it might cook like an egg on asphalt some days. He has yet to turn either their kitchen or lavatory sink on with the express purpose of putting his head under the water as he found Nicky doing just last Thursday when he returned from the studio, but they might be coming up on that. In the meantime, he's enjoying Nicky's best sauce recipe and the sight of sweat darkening his underarms and down the slope between his pecs.

With garlic and tomato lingering on his tongue, he rises to attend to the dishes before they become annoyingly difficult to clean. Hands slippery with soap in no time, he allows the gentle sound of the jet of lukewarm water hitting the sink's bottom to meld with the faint noise of traffic and the clamour of people from outside their window, forming a rolling wave of background noise inside his head.

Behind him, a chair scrapes against the linoleum floor. Even with the heat wave, his body welcomes Nicky's at his back. He's elbows-deep in soapy water and he knows for a fact he's been covered in a thin layer of sweat at all times since about nine that morning, but his heart skips a beat at the feel of Nicky wounding his arms around him at the waist.

Looking down, Joe frowns, though he cannot stop smiling good-naturedly as he comments, "You'll stain the fabric." Oily dregs of garlic and tomato and bits of herbs cannot be easy to remove. Nicky's hands are drenched, and they both know Joe likes this pair of trousers. "Love," he gently admonishes.

After making a considering sound at the back of his throat, Joe expects him to step away. Instead, Nicky noses at each suspender until it shifts down his shoulders and then his arms. Removing his hands from the water, Joe allows them to fall to hang by his hips. Amused despite himself, he mutters, "My heart," temperate and patient.

Nicky, for his part, turns him around by his middle and pushes at the centre of his chest before dropping to his knees.

Then Joe gets to appreciate the sight of Nicky fastening his teeth on the zip's slider and dragging it down the chain until the tape finishes, smooth and deliberate until the very end, eyes locked with his even as he drools a little on the bit of metal between his teeth. His eyelashes sweep against his cheek when he blinks away, and Joe wants to lick them as much as he wants his mouth on his cock, probably more.

Already hard and leaking, Joe is distending his underwear at the front, but not for long as, now done with his trousers, Nicky's teeth latch onto the waistband of his briefs, saliva seeping into the rib cotton as he pulls them away from his body and down enough for his cock to pop out.

Heedless of dishwasher and dish soap, Joe drags his clothing the rest of the way down, even as Nicky's mouth is already pressing to his cockhead briefly before allowing him to leisurely slip into his mouth. Joe scrambles at his shoulders, body curving like a bow over him as he takes him in deep, nose bumping at his belly, his mouth and throat hotter than a New York scorcher.

Joe doesn't last long, can't last long, not with Nicky swallowing around him compulsively and leaving off periodically to suck on just the head and his tongue licking at the underside in wide laves Joe feels in his balls. Soon enough, he spills down Nicky's throat, holding him by the back of his head where the hair is curling wetly with sweat, Nicky's hot palms petting the backs of his thighs as he empties himself in long, seemingly-endless waves of sensation.

Minutes pass. He mourns Nicky's mouth when it leaves him.

"Neat trick," he mumbles.

His mouth isn't working well. Works even worse as he watches Nicky's sauce-stained fingers dab at the underside of his bottom lip, where a bit of Joe's seed has dribbled, and bring it to his mouth, sucking on the digit at the end for good measure.

Getting up from the floor, Nicky stretches languidly before leaving for their bedroom without much more than a look.

Joe wants to scribble poetry and sketch him on a canvas as high as their walls and feed him all of his favourite dishes. Instead, he shuts off the water and discards his trousers over the kitchen chair on his way to their bedroom.

Tricks are neat, but all he really needs is his Nicky.

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos and comments are greatly appreciated! <3 <3 <3
> 
> Tumblr: [rhubarbdreams](https://rhubarbdreams.tumblr.com/)


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